The slums of Duskfall were beginning to change.
Where once there was silence and suffering, now there were whispers.
Where once there was fear, now there was curiosity.
The boy who had been broken now walked with certainty. He bore no weapons, but the air around him felt sharp. He spoke little, but his words carried weight. The slaves who had once spat in his direction now lowered their heads when he passed. Others began leaving offerings by the forgehouse: broken trinkets, bits of bread, old tools. Primitive gestures of reverence.
And Altharion accepted them. Not out of pride—but out of necessity.
He needed loyalty.
He needed people who could be shaped.
And from the ash, he would forge disciples.
The Forgehouse - Hours Before Dawn
Altharion stood before a dozen of them. Children, thieves, scavengers. None older than twenty. All eyes locked on him.
He drew a symbol in the air—simple, glowing, primal.
"This is the Rune of Becoming," he said. "It has been lost for ten millennia. I recovered it in three days."
They stared, wide-eyed.
"Magic is not what they tell you it is. The Divine System is a lie. Cultivation is a cage. You are not rats. You are fire. And fire remembers how to burn."
He paused.
"But fire must be controlled. Or it dies."
He pointed to the youngest—a girl with scars across her face.
"You," he said. "What do you fear?"
She swallowed. "Dying."
He nodded. "Then we will teach you to kill what kills you."
Thus began the first lesson.
Celestial Dome - Sky Court
Helios paced before the floating hololith of Serik's branded chest.
"He marked our assassin and let him live. He's not hiding. He's baiting us."
"What do we do?" asked another sage.
"We watch. We do not blink."
"And the Order?"
"Dispatch a second team. This time, no assassins. Send a purifier squad."
The room darkened.
"If he wants a war of symbols, we will give him an act of God."
Duskfall - Market Row
Three days later, the air trembled. People screamed. A light descended.
A squad of Purifiers emerged from a golden sigil—armored zealots, armed with relic-blades and divine seals. They were not here for arrest. They were here for cleansing.
They cut through shanties and huts, striking down anyone who bore the faintest magical trace.
Then they reached the forgehouse.
But the door was open.
And Altharion was waiting.
The Conflagration
"You wear symbols you do not understand," Altharion said to the Purifiers.
They raised their weapons.
He lifted a hand.
Reality twisted.
The sigils beneath the Purifiers' feet activated—not theirs, but his. Etched into the stone days ago. Set to burn.
The trap ignited.
Flames engulfed half the squad. Screams echoed. The survivors lunged forward, only to be stopped mid-air by a gravity snare.
Altharion moved through them like a shadow, whispering forgotten names of power.
One by one, they fell.
He left only one alive.
"Go," he said, whispering in the man's ear. "Tell them what you saw. Tell them who has returned."
The survivor crawled away, leaving a trail of blood.
Final Scene - Inner Province, High Sanctum
The survivor kneeled, trembling. "He... he knew our spells. He countered everything. He spoke true names."
Helios turned to the open window, silent.
Behind him, the other sages stood in fear.
Helios finally spoke. "Then we are no longer fighting a memory."
He looked skyward.
"We are fighting the future."